


In Pieces

by Kaibutsu_of_Shinjuku (Lightningpelt)



Category: Durarara!!
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, F/M, Healthy Relationships, M/M, Twisted and Fluffy Feelings, alternate continuum, idk what else to tag this honestly, of those two tags i dare you to guess which is which
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-08-21
Updated: 2016-09-03
Packaged: 2018-07-26 00:02:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 12,575
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7552357
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lightningpelt/pseuds/Kaibutsu_of_Shinjuku
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The dullahan, suddenly without anyone to return home to, wanders the streets of her adopted city while wondering what the future holds; the strongest man in Ikebukuro, a better friend than most will ever realize, steps forward to lend her a shoulder and a spare futon. </p>
<p>The unlicensed doctor, hopeless and hapless, waits for death with only a disembodied head for cherished company; the information broker, in spite of the painstaking measures he's taken to protect his own fragile heart, finds himself trying to pick up the pieces for his only friend. </p>
<p>AKA the AU in which Celty doesn't forgive Shinra after the Dollars incident. Endgame ShizuCelty and IzaShin.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue (Left)

**Author's Note:**

> Hello, welcome, and thank you for clicking on this fic of mine! This canon idvergence has always seemed startlingly believable to me, and I'm so glad of the opportunity to explore it (as well as these two amazing ships)! 
> 
> This is a repost from tumblr, now that this is obviously a semi-serious multi-chapter thing. I have five parts already finished, and they'll be posted here in fairly short order after some secondary editing. After that, this fic might not be updated very frequently... it's really more of an episodic type deal, as opposed to a consistent narrative. But it _will_ be updated from time to time, at least until the point I feel an "ending" has been reached. 
> 
> All that being said, I do hope you enjoy reading as much as I enjoyed writing it! Without further ado, here's the prologue of _In Pieces_.

Shinra’s hands were always pale, but they looked almost translucent when pressed against the chilled glass of the tank. They appeared thinner than suited a man of his age, and their bones stood out in almost frightening relief against the papery flesh.

The object behind the glass did not see or feel pity for him.

“Gone,” the young doctor mumbled, then clenched one of those frail hands faintly into a fist. “Gone…”

The object floating in the tank did not respond, even when Shinra leaned in and unfastened the lid of the container. No alarms blared; he knew how to disable such trivial things. So he was left to free the specimen with a slosh; a smacking of liquid against the glass, and the drag of sodden white sleeves as he lifted it out. Then he sat down heavily, staring at the roughly round thing resting in his lap.

“Should I blame you? Or should I blame myself? _She_ doesn’t seem to want either of us, after all.” 

It didn’t make sense to him. Not only had the woman rejected _him_ , but she had made no attempt to retrieve the very thing she had been searching for for the past twenty years. He had always known where it was, and learning that was what had driven her away. Her search for this very object and his obstruction of that search had driven her away.

“… But she left us both to languish together, unwanted.”

Celty Sturlson’s head offered no reply. Shinra brushed it’s wet bangs back absentmindedly, wondering how the dullahan had liked to keep her hair when it was hers to style.

“You’re all I have left of her, you know?” Shinra asked sadly, then smiled. It was a broken, faint expression. “But you aren’t her. You probably have a different mind, a different personality, a different _will_ slumbering peacefully behind that pretty face, don’t you?”

His fingers traced the curve of the face; the soft line of the jaw, and then the slightly-parted lips.

“She never let me touch her like this.”

Shinra laughed quietly; paused; waited for a response that never came.

“If you were to ever wake from this enchanted dormancy, who’s to say _you_ wouldn’t reject me, too?

"I still love her. I’ve loved her for twenty years, and I always will love her. I’ve done everything I can to keep her close, and I won’t let her go just because that’s what she wants…

”… but what if I’ve lost…?“

Shinra’s words died; he ran his fingers through the head’s hair, as if it would soothe him. His deepest fear was that Celty was out of his reach forever–that nothing he could say or do would reach her, let alone bring her back to him. He couldn’t charm _or_ manipulate her into staying, and even the most extreme physical force was a hopeless thing to contemplate using against someone like her.

He would go to any lengths without hesitation, but what if there were truly no lengths he could go to?

"I can’t…

"Gone.”

A strange, hollow smile plastered across his lips, Shinra bent in double and rested his forehead against the head’s damp brow. Then, his tears mingling with what liquid was left from the tank, Shinra moved to kiss each eyelid–the left and then the right, taking his time and savoring the action.

“She’s… gone.

"She’s never coming back… for either of us.”

Still smiling, Shinra began to sob softly, his shoulders shaking and his spidery fingers convulsively tightening and then loosening at the head’s temples; her hair tangled around the digits, trapping them.

“I’ll take you home with me…” Shinra whispered, his fingers still flexing but now restricted by the knotty snarls around them. “I’ll take you home… I’ll keep you safe…

"We’ll wait for her together, alright? Alright.”


	2. Here

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Shizelty is just so--  
> Like it has so much potential to be so healthy. I don't even--I can't--I mean--  
> It's just so beautiful. 
> 
> So I think one of the trickiest things about this AU is actually how... _early_ in the canonverse it is. Especially where Shinra and Celty are concerned--like most of the important IzaShin bits we get in canon actually happen pre-series, so that's not so much of an issue. But where Shizu and Celty are concerned... I have to keep reminding myself that certain things, like the Saika incident, haven't happened ( ~~yet, ha haa...~~ ). This AU starts right after the Dollars incident, so there's also a half a year gap in canon that... I may or may not keep forgetting about... 
> 
> That aside! ~~holy hell i'm chatty today i'm sorry~~ I hope you enjoy the first real chapter! I'll probably have the second (IzaShin, in~com~ing~~) up later today, since I'm kind of trying to catch up to where I'm at over on my writing blog. :3

The sound of her bike was as clearly distressed as a human cry of pain. Her friend wasn’t nearby when he heard it, but he automatically tilted his head to get a better idea of where it was coming from.

_Maybe… she wants to be alone…?_

But as soon as the thought crossed his mind, Shizuo Heiwajima decided that it didn’t matter one way or the other. He would go to her--if she needed him, he would stay; if she wanted to be alone, he would leave. It was simple. One way or the other, though, he _would_ find out who had upset her. And then they _would_ have to pay.

After nearly an hour of pacing around the city in maddening circles, led on only by the occasion howl of the familiar spirit, he spotted the dullahan swerving into an alleyway. It was easy to head her off, then, and she didn’t attempt to swerve around him when he planted himself in front of her.

“Hey. Celty.”

She nodded, then fished in her riding suit for a moment. What she pulled out was a small pad of paper and a pencil, much to Shizuo’s surprise.

“Good evening,” she wrote, as if it were all the normal course of things.

But Shizuo could tell, and from far more than the distressed cries of the familiar that had summoned him. 

“What’s wrong?” He took a step forward; saw her jump. But her nervousness wasn’t due to fear; he knew her too well to think that. “You can talk to me, if you want.”

Celty fidgeted. Then, still with that pencil and paper, “How did you know?”

Shizuo laughed faintly. “It’s clear as anything. Shinra isn’t the only one who can read you, you know.”

Celty flinched at the name, and Shizuo stiffened. Something had either happened to Shinra, then… or Shinra had _done something_.

“If you don’t want to talk about it, that’s fine,” the blonde murmured, taking another step toward her. “I mean, I get that. But talking helps sometimes, you know. And even if you don’t want to talk about it, just give me a name and I’ll make whoever hurt you pay. You know I will.”

Celty shook her helmet. “No… no, I… don’t want you to do that. But I appreciate it.”

“It was Shinra, wasn’t it?” Shizuo was certain, his teeth grit as he hissed the question. The absence of her PDA, the way she was acting, her last statement… “What the hell did that bastard do, Celty?”

The dullahan slumped down on the back of her motorcycle, which snorted with concern; she stroked the handlebars soothingly, and the horse nickered. Shizuo, although moving slowly, closed the gap between them.

“He hurt you, didn’t he?”

“I’m not going back there,” Celty held up, then gave a visible sigh. “He knew where my head was THIS ENTIRE TIME. He says he was afraid of losing me if I found it, and… I know that’s the truth. I can’t blame him. But that doesn’t mean I can forgive him.”

“… So it’s over between you two?” Shizuo asked slowly. Relationships weren’t his forte, but it still shocked him. He had always expected Shinra and Celty to sink deeper into whatever strange love they shared as time went on.

“He lied to me,” Celty replied. “And on top of that, he admitted that he’d use anything–my own emotions, even–to keep me close to him. He manipulated me, and he’d do it again in a heartbeat if he thought he needed to.

"I… can’t give him that sort of power over me.”

“He shouldn’t have that sort of power,” Shizuo growled. “Damn twisted bastard… what the hell is he thinking?”

“It hurts…” Celty held up slowly, then scratched out, “I miss him… already.

”… This pain will fade, won’t it?“

Shizuo grimaced. "Yeah… yeah, it will. I know it will.” He didn’t, really, but he thought that it would be a good, best-friend-type thing to say. What he said next, however, he earnestly believed. “You did the right thing, Celty.”

“That… means a lot,” the dullahan replied, then slumped slightly further over Shooter’s handlebars.

“He doesn’t deserve someone like you, not if he tries to pull shit like that,” Shizuo muttered, shaking his head. “You did the right thing by leaving him. Bastard didn’t realize what he had.”

“I think he did,” Celty disagreed. “He did… he DOES love me. And I probably still love him. I just… I can't take the risk that it'll happen again... or even escalate. Ican’t deal with this sort of deception." 

“You shouldn’t have to,” Shizuo validated, nodding. “You’re… strong, and independent, and you’re special… and smart and beautiful and loyal and such a damn good listener and…” The words were coming too fast, suddenly, and Shizuo tried to stem their flow. He cleared his throat; adjusted his glasses. “He doesn’t deserve you, not if he’s trying to… to _manipulate_ you into being with him.” His teeth ground, the mere idea of _Celty_ being treated in such a way–by his own friend or by anyone else–making his chest tighten.

The dullahan rose; moved slightly toward him. He heard his own name in her thoughts, although she hadn’t written anything on her little notepad.

“Shit, I’m… I’m so sorry, Celty. He shouldn’t have… I’m sorry.”

The dullahan nodded slowly, her shoulders relaxing and her hands hanging limp at her sides. They stood in silence for a moment, but the two of them had never needed words.

 _Can I hold you?_ Shizuo asked with just a slight opening of his arms.

Celty flew to him.

The dullahan’s grip might have been painful to anyone else, but Shizuo didn’t flinch as she wrapped her arms around him; clawed faintly at his skin to hold him closer still. And he, in turn, embraced her–tightly, but with a conscious check of his strength.

“Hey, if you… need a place to stay…” Shizuo began slowly, and Celty drew back enough to look up at him; meet his earnest gaze, devoid of ulterior motives.

She leaned up; bumped the brow of her helmet against his forehead. And Shizuo smiled, pushing slightly back.

“Good. Okay. We can head back there now to start figuring things out, if you want. I mean, I’ll need to go out and get a new futon, I know… but maybe that’ll have to wait until tomorrow…”

He was speaking strictly stream of consciousness, but he didn’t try to control it. Celty never minded when he started to ramble–one of the many thing he appreciated about her and their relationship. He obeyed when the dullahan motioned for him to get onto the back of Shooter, then wrapped his arms around her and settled in as the usual shadowy helmet swirled into being around his head.

 _How could Shinra…?_ he wondered idly, then dismissed the line of thought. _Next time I see him, I’ll punch the perverted bastard…_

_And in the meantime, I’ll look after her._

“Hey, Celty?”

The dullahan glanced slightly over her shoulder as Shooter began to edge out of the ally.

Taking that–correctly–as an indication that he should keep speaking, Shizuo continued. “I know you don’t need anyone to take care of you, but… if you need someone to lean on, I’m here.”

Celty sat still for a moment, even as she guided Shooter into the flow of Ikebukuro traffic. Then she simply nodded, and Shizuo smiled.

“I’m so sorry, Celty. But I know you’ll be fine, and I’m here if you need me.”

… … …

Celty Sturlson woke up the next morning in a smoke-scented bed–Shizuo Heiwajima’s bed. It’s owner wasn’t present, having banished himself to his couch for the night.

She felt surprisingly at peace, considering.

Shooter nickered a good morning from where he was parked in the corner of the room. As Celty pushed herself up, she glanced over at the curtained-off window. She had never actually been over to her friend’s apartment, and had been duly surprised by how nice it was. When she had admitted that, he had only laughed and insisted that he did like to keep the place presentable, even if no one ever came over.

The house smelled like bacon.

Celty stretched slowly, luxuriously, and then stood. She half-expected Shinra’s cheerful morning greeting, and the thought of his smiling face sent burning knives into her chest. Her hands rose involuntarily, clenching into fists over where a human heart would beat.

_… How do you feel right now, Shinra…? You must be in pain, too…_

But Shinra wasn’t her primary concern. For the time being, Celty was focused on picking up the pieces of her own shattered life–of facing a very uncertain future now that she had lost both her purpose and the person she had viewed as a partner.

However, a friendly face _was_ there to greet her when she finally emerged from the bedroom, even in Shinra’s absence.

“How’d you sleep?” Shizuo asked, his hair ruffled and his eyes hazy with drowsiness. He was clad only in pajama pants and house-slippers, and Celty was momentarily flustered by the sight. But his demeanor was casual; he held up the pan of bacon he was cooking, motioning toward her. “I really want to offer you some, you know? It’d be the right thing to do, as a host. But you can’t eat.”

Celty felt an unexpected laugh bubble in her chest at his straightforward observation.

“It’s the thought that counts,” she held up on her notepad, and Shizuo frowned slightly.

“Guess so… still wish there was something I could offer you, though.”

Celty’s shadows billowed with surprise. “You gave me a place to stay!” she wrote rapidly. “Not only that, but you’ve been nothing but supportive this entire time!”

Shizuo still didn’t look convinced. “I’m being a friend,” he said simply. “You do the same for me all the time.”

Celty started to object again, then simply moved forward to embrace him. Shizuo stiffened in surprise, then put the pan down to return her hug. It was the first time they had been so close, physically, during a moment when the dullahan didn’t have her helmet on.

“Hey… you okay?” Shizuo asked softly. “Must be weird to wake up without Shinra, huh? I’m sorry.”

 _Stop apologizing…!_ Celty objected with a rough punch; the hit might have dropped Shinra, but Shizuo didn’t even flinch.

“What else am I supposed to say?” the blonde asked, sounding mildly amused as he rubbed absently at her back. “It sucks.”

Celty relaxed slightly into him, then pushed away. “Right,” she wrote, a bit shakily. “Eat your breakfast.”

Shizuo smiled as he picked up a piece of bacon straight out of the pan, a stunt that would have severely burned a normal person’s fingers. He still blew on it, though, before popping it into his mouth and then carried the whole pan with him into his living room. Celty, after a moment, followed him.

“I have work at 10,” the blonde told her conversationally, “but you can stay here, of course.” He shoved aside the blanket he had used the night before as he sat down on the couch, patting the cushion next to him. “I’ll dig up a spare key in case you want to leave for a while, too.”

Celty, after a brief hesitation, sat beside him. “I appreciate it.”

Shizuo offered her the remote; Celty accepted, turning on the TV and wondering at how surreal it felt. The programing was familiar, as was the activity of watching it, but the smoky couch and company were entirely foreign.

Looking nervously over at Shizuo, who seemed largely impassive as he munched his breakfast and watched the news station she had arbitrarily left on, Celty edged closer to him. Then she did it again, and again, until she could lean lightly against his shoulder. He glanced briefly at her in surprise, then faced forward again and looped one strong arm around her shoulders.

“I’m here, Celty.”

 _That’s all I need to hear…_ was her silent reply, as she eased further into him. _Thank you, Shizuo._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Do remember to leave a comment or kudos if you're so inclined, I live to hear your thoughts/reactions/theories/critique, ect.! Thanks for reading, and I'll see you all soon in the next chapter~


	3. Staying

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is it--the chapter that breaks me.

It never failed to irritate Izaya Orihara when people didn't answer their phones, possibly because he was so religious about answering his (when it didn't specifically suit him to do otherwise, of course).

Never before had he been particularly _concerned_ by an unanswered phone. 

"Hey... my dear courier..." He chuckled. "Hi. No, not a job, per-say... I was just wondering if you'd been home recently."

It was little surprise when she hung up on him, but it still made his stomach twist with anxiety.

**\--KANRA HAS ENTERED THE CHAT--**

《Evening, lovelies!》   
【Good evening, Kanra!】   
《Tanaka Taro-san! Has Setton-san been around today?》   
【I haven't seen her in the logs...】  
【Why do you ask, if I may? Is something wrong?】

Izaya's brow furrowed. _She hasn't been in the chat room... not since..._ scrolling rapidly through the logs, he tapped the screen over her last communication. _... since three days ago. That's highly unusual, with how attached she is to this silly little room..._

_... Which means..._

_... she probably hasn't had access to her computer. She probably hasn’t been_ home _since the day of the Dollars meetup._

Coming to a decision, Izaya typed a hasty but polite farewell to Mikado's screen-name, then spun out of his chair and grabbed his coat off its hook. Almost as an afterthought, he grabbed his personal phone and stuffed it into his pocket, leaving his business phones unattended on his coffee table. 

The information broker flew through Shinjuku and across Ikebukuro as if Shizuo Heiwajima himself was on his tail. He didn't stop to greet acquaintances; didn't notice all his beloved humans as he blew past them or bounded by over their heads. He was focused on one particular human. His heart racing even faster than his feet, he didn't slow until the towering apartment building was within view.

The jet-black motorcycle was nowhere to be seen in the parking garage.

Taking the stairs half a flight at a time, Izaya skidded up to the familiar door in record time. Then, although he hesitated just a beat, he began to knock.

"Hey...!" He choked on the name; pressed on without it, forcing stiff cheer into his voice. "Dear friend! It's me! Are you in there? Hey, open up, would you?"

There was no reply. Izaya swallowed hard, then, and dropped down.

"Okay!" he called, his tone a strained attempt at playful. "You force me to do this! You know I'll just break in if I have to! Don't let me catch you doing anything embarrassing, or you'll never live it down!"

His knife, having flitted out of his pocket, worked frantically at the lock. He could have smashed the door in easily, but was loathe to do permanent damage to this particular residence.

The door sprang open with a loaded _click_ , then swung gently inward. Izaya shuddered at the wave of stale air that hit him. _At least it doesn't smell like death..._ he thought, then chastised himself for letting his imagination get the better of him. He stepped cautiously over the threshold, giving his eyes a moment to adjust to the almost pitch black as he closed the door behind him.

"Hey..." he called softly, creeping forward and kicking off his shoes--as if it were a normal visit. "I'm coming in...! Don't want to startle you..."

For the first time he could remember, Izaya was violently anxious; nauseous and lightheaded with the fear of what he was about to find. The living room, he discovered with a quick sweep of his eyes, was empty; so, upon inspection, was the small office, which only forced him to go deeper into the house.

_It would be easier to turn around and leave,_ the coward's instincts whispered. _Don't get involved with this. Turn around. That's what you've always done._

_Protect your heart._

Izaya swallowed hard; his feet had stopped moving.

_Turn around and leave._

_Protect your heart._

_No matter what you find, it'll hurt you to see it._

_It'll hurt._

_Turn around._

_This might break you._

_Protect yourself._

_Don't lower your guard._

_Isolate yourself._

_Stop._

_Turn back._

_Leave him.  
_

_Forget him._

Izaya shook his head violently, then forced himself to inhale; his lungs burned, and he realized that he had stopped breathing as the thoughts attacked him. He willed one foot to move forward, and then the other. His own defenses fought against him, but he kept moving as if in a trance.

The thought of turning his back on this one person, even if the alternative hurt, was unthinkable. That action in and of itself would destroy him as surely as any damage to his brittle heart.

"Hey..." he called again, even softer. "Are you here? If you aren't, that would be great... I'm not going to lie, I'd be so relieved if it turned out that you aren't even here..." 

But that would also beg the question: where _was_ he? 

Izaya’s legs felt numb as he closed in on the bedroom. But he didn't allow himself to stop again as he pushed the door open and peered inside; he knew he wouldn't be able to do it if he paused to think.

"Hey... you in here?"

The bed, blankets folded neatly, was empty. Izaya let out a heavy breath, then slunk the rest of the way into the room and did a quick sweep. He checked the bathroom, finding the shower unused and tools of hygiene neatly lined up on the sink. No sign of the apartment's inhabitant; Izaya felt the muscles along his spine begin to relax.

"Alright... okay, looks like you aren't here..." he whispered, one hand rising to press against his chilled brow. But as he slipped out into the hallway again, one unopened door caught his eye and his heart plummeted.

_... That's..._ her _room..._

Again, Izaya didn't give himself a chance to back out. He simply scrounged up his confidence--pretending it was courage--and trotted forward, pushing the door open before he could stop himself.

The air in Celty Sturlson's room was slightly different from that of the rest of the house. There was a distinctly human musk that made Izaya's nostrils flare, along with the scent of dust and general staleness that filled the whole apartment. It was almost enough to make him turn tail and run, and he felt an unfamiliar expression of horror twist his face.

He knew he had found the person he was looking for, and in exactly the state he had feared.

"... Shinra." The name left him as breath, and he slowly shut the door behind him. The ache in his chest was vaguely familiar; he had experienced it only once before, and wondered idly if that had been the moment everything had changed for him.

He crouched beside Shinra Kishitani, where the young doctor sat slouched on the futon, the same position he had assumed the day his most precious human had been stabbed.

"Shinra... Shinra...!" Desperation seeping into his voice, Izaya reached forward and touched the other's shoulder; it felt unnaturally bony. Shinra was clinging to some object, but in the near-darkness Izaya couldn't tell what it was. "Shinra, it's me...! Are you alright?" What a stupid question it was. "Shinra, talk to me. Please...!"

The doctor moved fractionally under Izaya's hand, and the later let out a heavy sigh of relief.

"Orihara-kun? Why...?"

"I'm here, Shinra," was the only thing Izaya could think to say. Tightening his grip briefly on his friend's shoulder, he stood. "I'm going to turn on the light, okay?"

"... Why did she leave...?"

Izaya stiffened, but forced his feet to keep moving toward where he knew a lamp stood in the corner. Now retreat simply _wasn’t_ an option, and he was beginning to regret it.

That faint sense of regret became pungent bile in the back of his throat when he turned the light on; saw exactly what he had walked into. Shinra was slouched on the futon, as he had gathered, glasses off and eyes glazed. His face was filthy--dirty and tear-stained. His hair was matted and dull, and his clothes were in an impressive state of dishevelment. But more than anything, the object he was holding provided lurid evidence of his sorry state.

The disembodied head of a dullahan was in his lap, clutched tightly to his midsection with frail-looking arms. Though Izaya knew what it really was, he couldn't help but liken it to a lover's head severed in a crime of passion, held furtively by the broken and mad perpetrator in the wake of a deadly deed.

"A-Alright..." Izaya said shakily, unsure of how to proceed. In all his experience, all his knowledge, he had never found himself facing something like this. Moving hesitantly forward, he dropped down beside his friend once again. "Alright, Shinra... can you talk to me? You know who I am, right?"

Shinra's head turned slowly; almost creakingly. "... Orihara-kun..." he acknowledged, his gaze clearing just a bit. "Why... are you here...?"

Izaya felt a relieved smile come to his face. "Right, right. I came to check in on you. You weren't answering your phone."

"..." Shinra stared at him blankly. Then, softly, "She's gone, Orihara-kun."

His breath smelled of rot. Izaya might have wrinkled his nose had he not had much bigger concerns. "I know..." he murmured. "I know." Then he reached forward and gripped Shinra's shoulders; before he could question it, dragged his friend into an embrace. "I know. I'm so sorry, Shinra. I know... you built your world around her, didn't you? I know you did.

"That's why I'm here, Shinra. I... I'm here to help you."

Shinra didn't release the head to return the hug, but he did rest his head on Izaya's shoulder with a soft sigh. "I... didn't expect that, Orihara-kun..."

"Let's... let's get you up, here..." Izaya murmured, feeling himself begin to shake as he drew back and looped his arms around Shinra's elbow. The young doctor didn't let go of the head, but let himself be pulled to his feet. "Let's... get you cleaned up and changed, okay? I'll bet these clothes are three days old, at least."

"There's no point..." Shinra murmured, even as he let Izaya guide him into the bathroom. "She's not... coming back..."

Izaya shook his head. _That shouldn't..._ "That doesn't matter, Shinra..." he murmured. "If you can't look presentable for yourself... do it for me, okay? I came over to see you... at least get washed up a bit, okay?"

For a moment, Shinra didn't reply. But then, slowly, "... For you, Orihara-kun...?"

"... Do it for me," Izaya repeated softly. How often had he wished that _he_ was at the center of Shinra's fixation? More often, he realized in that moment, than he had ever admitted to himself.

This was the perfect opportunity.

And yet, as soon as that thought occurred to him, he forced himself to say, "And for yourself, Shinra. Don't... not just for me. Do it for yourself, in the end. Okay?"

Shinra murmured something that might have been an affirmation, and Izaya grimaced slightly. He set the young doctor down on the toilet seat and then tried to get his shirt off over his head. It was a difficult task, considering the grip Shinra insisted on keeping on the head, but eventually he managed it. Shinra's skin was sticky and chilled to the touch, and Izaya clicked his tongue.

"Take better care of yourself, you damn sorry excuse for a doctor..." he muttered, and Shinra gave a faint chuckle.

"No point... Orihara-kun..."

Izaya flinched; forced out, "That's not what I want to hear, Shinra..."

When it became obvious that Shinra wouldn't be taking any initiative, Izaya sighed and moved to the sink; grabbed a washcloth and soaked it slowly with warm water. Despite his earnest love of humans, human filth was as repulsive to him as to anyone. Still, he took a deep breath and began to wipe gently at Shinra's skin. The doctor's eyes closed as he did, and he moved willingly to allow Izaya to work. The only thing he refused to do, still, was release the head. He didn't object or even comment when Izaya pulled down his slacks to clean his legs and lower body in the same fashion.

Izaya took special care over the scar on Shinra's hip, as if it would still be tender to the touch.

"Come over to the shower," the informant instructed gently, and Shinra rose. Izaya wrapped him in a floral-patterned robe, then bade him kneel in front of the bathtub; he himself sat on the tub's edge. "I'll wash your hair."

"Since when have you been so kind... Orihara-kun...?" Shinra asked softly, and Izaya choked on some unnamed emotion.

"Where you're concerned, Shinra? Always. Haven't you noticed?"

The doctor shook his head, even as his hair was soaked through with warm water. "... No."

"Of course not..." Izaya murmured, though his voice was devoid of bitterness; his tone held only fondness. He ran sudsy fingers through Shinra's chestnut locks, feeling the grime come off as he worked. He took more time than he needed to, massaging his friend's scalp and wondering how Shinra would react if he leaned down and planted a kiss on the exposed nape of his neck.

Once Shinra had been washed to Izaya's satisfaction, the informant once again coaxed his friend to his feet. All dripping hair and blank, helpless expression, Shinra obeyed; allowed Izaya to slip his glasses on over his face. 

"When was the last time you ate anything?" Izaya asked him, receiving only a non-committal murmur and slight shrug. "Days ago, I'll bet. C'mon, c'mon, then."

The idea of taking Shinra anywhere, what with his unwavering attachment to the disembodied head he held, was unthinkable. So Izaya got him settled at the dining room table, flicking on all the lights as he did so, and then gathered his courage to investigate the kitchen.

After one dismally failed attempt to heat some gyoza, nearly lighting the stove on fire in the process, Izaya resorted to ramen. He had to fumble a bit to find a bowl and spoon, but managed it; poured a glass of water, too, and then returned to the table. Shinra hadn't moved from where Izaya had left him, staring blankly at the tabletop.

"Here," Izaya murmured, pushing the ramen across the table. Shinra didn't react. "C'mon, Shinra. You've got to eat, okay? You're a doctor, damn it. You should... know."

"... No point..." was Shinra's quiet response, and Izaya felt his temper flare--anxiety, rather, masked as anger.

"There's always a point, Shinra," he huffed. "Now come on. Eat. I'll force it down your throat if I have to."

The ghost of a smile came to Shinra's pale lips. "Do you care about me, Orihara-kun...? Is that why... you're acting like this...?"

Izaya felt his throat close up as he contemplated the answer. But he looked down; muttered, "Just eat the damn soup..." then got up and fished his phone out of his pocket, flicking to a recently-added number in his address book. 

"Haven't you sent me on enough demeaning errands for one day?" was the snippy response from his new secretary. Izaya found that he had precious little patience for it.

"If you want to keep any amount of hold on your brother, you'll go on as many demeaning errands as I choose to send you on," he replied. "You _don’t_ have the head anymore--I'm the last chance you have at any control over him."

Namie Yagiri's resentment was palpable, even though the phone. "... What do you want?"

"Go to my apartment and pack me an overnight," Izaya ordered shortly. "Clothes, toiletries, and an extra blanket. Bring some of those pre-made meals I had you prepare, too--enough for a couple of days, for two people. Then come over to Shinra Kishitani's apartment. The address is--"

"... Fine," was Namie's crisp response. "I should be there in an hour or two."

Izaya nodded, even though the woman couldn't see him. When he hung up, he quickly returned to the dining room table to be with Shinra.

The doctor was sipping at a spoonful of broth; Izaya was relieved to see that some of the haze had faded from his eyes. When he sat down, Shinra actually looked up at him.

"Why did you come over, Orihara-kun?"

"What would you have done if I hadn't?" Izaya answered the question with a question.

Shinra thought for a moment; took a mouthful of noodles, his eyes closing briefly.

"This tastes good," he said, instead of answering.

"... I'm glad," Izaya replied, choosing not to press his previous question. To his surprise, Shinra returned to the subject anyway.

"I don't know... what I would have done," Shinra sighed softly, his arm tightening around the head he still held close in his lap. "I might not have done anything. That would have been... about right."

"You would have died," Izaya whispered, before he could stop himself. "If you had just stayed like that, you would have died."

"... Or I might have just ended it," Shinra offered. "I'm not big on suffering, you know. If it had started to hurt, I probably would have just mixed myself a cocktail of medicine."

Izaya felt his stomach flip. "Don't do that, Shinra."

The doctor smile slightly. "I can't promise that, Orihara-kun."

"Izaya is fine," the informant said suddenly; insistently. "You've been calling me 'Orihara' for way too long. Izaya is fine."

Shina's smile softened. "Izaya-kun, then. But I appreciate you coming all this way." He took another bite of ramen. "This really is good."

Izaya felt his stomach twist. "I'm not leaving."

Shinra cocked his head. "Hmm?"

"I'm not leaving you," Izaya said again. "I'm staying. I came all the way here, you know, and I'm not leaving just so you can go and..." He trailed off, unable to say it.

Shinra's smile turned sad. "But there's no point... Izaya-kun. She's not coming back, and there's no way I can force her to come back. It was _her_ will--not her head's, like I always feared. I can't do anything to get her back, so there's no point in doing anything at all."

"There's more to life than _her_ , Shinra...!" Izaya said desperately, leaning across the table toward his friend.

"Like what?" Shinra challenged softly, his eyes narrowing. "Tell me, Izaya-kun."

"...!" Izaya opened his mouth, but no sound came out. Once again there was the temptation--the desire to try to place _himself_ at the center of Shinra's world. He could do it, he thought... probably. What else did he have to offer? Shinra needed a reason to live, and he was looking to Izaya to give him one. 

Yet Izaya was sometimes hard-pressed to find a reason for himself. When he couldn't scrounge up anything else, in his darkest, loneliest moments, _Shinra_ was his reason.  

"..." Staring into Shinra's limpid, serene eyes, Izaya drew another breath; struggled to find something to say that wouldn't be a lie. If he lied, Shinra would see through it in a heartbeat. For once he doubted his ability to craft a convincing lie, anyways. So what he said, at last, was, "Yellowtail."

Shinra's head tilted. "'Yellowtail?'" he echoed, and Izaya nodded jerkily.

"You told me once that  you wanted to eat yellowtail someday," Izaya continued, grasping at the thread of _anything_. "It's not in season right now. I've been meaning to take you to get some for years now, but we always... we forget to get together, you know. You can't die before you have it, right? If you think that ramen tastes good--jeez, you'll be blown away by well-prepared yellowtail. I know the _best_ place to get it, too, but we have to wait for the right season."

Shinra's expression softened. "So you do listen, Izaya..."

The informant nodded again. "And there are lots of other delicious things to eat, and beautiful things to see, and fun things to do, and exciting things to _experience_ , and--!" Izaya choked, closing his eyes tightly and lowering his head. A sob he hadn't anticipated wracked him, and he felt tears burning behind his eyes.

In that moment, he _hated_ Celty Sturlson as violently as one being can hate another--human or otherwise.

_You were the center of his world..._

You _robbed him of his will to live, even before you left...! You took away his desire to experience everything this beautiful, fucked-up world has to offer! He could only live for you, is that it?! He deserves..._ so much more _than that...!_

_And then, after you took all that away, you left him to_ die _...!_

Izaya vowed then, hands clenched atop the table and eyes still screwed tightly shut, to make Celty Sturlson pay even more severely than that dog Nakura--she would pay ten-fold.

And then a hand folded gently over Izaya's bloody fist, forcing his eyes to open.

Shinra's smile was glowing--kind; captivating; that same smile that had enchanted Izaya years before. But his eyes, sending a lance through Izaya's stomach, were still placid and unfeeling.

"Do _you_ want me to keep living, Izaya-kun?"

"But I want _you_ to live!" Izaya objected--hissed through grit teeth. "I want you to live _for you,_ Shinra! I don't want you to fixate on _me_ like you fixated on that damn _witch_ of a dullahan! Look what she's done to you, just look! You don't even have a single reason of your own to stay alive! I don't want to be a part of that! I don't want to do the same sort of damage to you all over again! I want you to live for your own sake, and _then_ I want to be with you!"

Shinra tightened his grip on Izaya's hand, and the information broker flinched as his own nails dig deeper into his palm. Blood was pooling beneath his fist, but that wasn't important.

"I doubt you could ever be her equal in my eyes anyhow, Izaya-kun. So don't worry about all that."

Izaya choked slightly, lowering his head further. "I know that..." he murmured. "I've always known that, damn you..."

_And I still... couldn't... let you go..._

"I’m staying, Shinra. I’ve never been able to let you go, and I’m not letting go now. I don’t want to be her equal... even if I could be... 

“But I’m staying with you.” 

He had to stay. His heart was finally breaking, despite all his precautions, and the only chance of putting it back together was in trying to save the dying boy holding his hand. 

"I should thank you then, Izaya... isn’t that right? 

“... Thank you, Izaya-kun.” 

... ... ... 

"Ne, Izaya-kun?” 

Izaya looked up from eating his own supper at the doctor’s table. Shinra had settled himself on the couch, staring at the blank TV screen and nibbling on some of the food that Izaya had reheated. The head was still in his lap. 

“What?” 

“I don’t understand why you chose _me_ to fixate on.” 

Izaya chuckled. “You don’t seem to understand a lot of things about yourself. You were too focused on Celty all this time.” 

“I know enough. I know that I’m not a very good person. I know that I wouldn’t be sad if you, a person I call ‘friend,’ died.” 

It hurt like a stab to the gut. “I know that too, Shinra. I’ve always known that.” 

“So why?” 

“It wouldn’t change your opinion of Celty if she said that to you, would it?” 

“You can’t convince me that how you feel about me compares to how I feel about her.” 

“You’re the one who just said I’ve ‘fixated’ on you,” Izaya pointed out. 

“Fixation and love are two different things,” Shinra replied. 

Izaya frowned. “Why the head, Shinra?” he asked, to change the subject. “I mean, I knew you were twisted, but why hang onto her head?” 

“Because Celty left both of us,” was Shinra’s reply. He lifted the head slowly above him, staring up at it’s face. “She abandoned me and her head. We’ll wait together for her to come back.” 

“... You told me she isn’t coming back,” Izaya pointed out flatly, and the doctor chuckled faintly. 

“I know that. But there’s always a chance, isn’t there?” 

“... She’s not coming back, Shinra.” 

“Are you saying that because you really believe it?” Shinra asked. “Or are you saying that for selfish reasons?” 

“Both.” 

Shinra laughed again, louder. “You’re too much, Izaya-kun...” 

Izaya’s frown deepened. “I know enough about myself, too. I’m not a good person, either. And yet you still call me ‘friend.’“ 

“So? I needed a friend for Celty’s approval. Even that was for her.” 

“But Celty doesn’t like me,” Izaya said suddenly. “Even after she made that clear, you didn’t stop regarding me as a friend. Why would you do that, if befriending me was _only_ to get her approval?” 

Shinra thought for a moment. “Because you looked out for her, just like you look out for me,” he said eventually. “I know a lot of the things you paid her to do were fool’s errands, Izaya-kun. Consistently giving her jobs--and jobs that paid exceedingly well, too--was the same thing as keeping especially troublesome people in the underworld off my back. I was aware of that too, I hope you know.”

Izaya chuckled. “And I thought I was being so subtle...” 

“You’ve always been a good friend to me, Izaya-kun. Even if you’re a terrible person otherwise, you’ve always been good to Celty and I. I, by contrast, wouldn’t have minded if our relationship faded away after high school. But you kept it alive, so the least I can do is acknowledge it’s existence.” 

Izaya felt a dull ache appear in his chest. “So what makes you think that I’d let that relationship end now?” 

Shinra shrugged. “I underestimated the lengths you’d go to to keep me alive.” 

“So what _is_ the difference between fixation and love, Shinra?” 

The doctor was silent for a long moment, shifting the head to one hand and gazing up at it. Then he let it drop--thud heavily into his lap once more, and stared up at his empty palm. 

“Fixation is... mental. Intellect drives fixation. Love is strictly emotional. But the real doozy is when the two are combined. Someone should make a word for that.” 

“The word is _pain_ ,” Izaya supplied, and Shinra chuckled. 

“Not what I meant, but I suppose so.” 

“I’m in a lot of pain over you, Shinra.” 

The doctor fell silent again. Then, after a beat, “Is this your way of confessing, Izaya-kun? Is _that_ the real reason you’re here?” 

“You’re the brightest thing in my world,” Izaya said, even as Shinra lowered his hand and rested it on top of the head, his fingers running through her hair. “You’re like the sun. Primitive cultures used to worship the sun because it was so brilliant and untouchable. You’re unusual--special; you’re smart; you’re warm. You’ve always been so focused on Celty that you’ve never realized how captivating _you_ are.” 

And then Izaya was leaning over the back of the couch to wrap his arms around Shinra, gently but confidently, burying his face in the doctor’s soft, freshly-washed hair. 

“You deserve to live for yourself, Shinra. And I’m going to do everything I can to make sure you do, regardless of what happens to me. I’m staying right beside you, no matter what--unseen in the shadows or in the open. If you acknowledge me, that’s great. But in the end it doesn’t matter to me. What form our relationship takes doesn’t even matter to me. Fixation or love or both... it would destroy me if you ceased to exist, or if whatever connection we have withered and died. I never wanted this, and if I could take it all back, I would... but now, there’s nothing for it. So I’ll do everything in my power to keep you alive and to stay near you, no matter how you view me.”  

Shinra’s hand untangled slowly from the head’s hair; he reached up, knotting his fingers in Izaya’s dark locks instead. They stayed like that for a long series of heartbeats, and then Shinra pulled his friend around so that their foreheads were pressed together. 

“I don’t know how to respond to that, Izaya-kun, truly.” 

And Izaya kissed him. 

It was a quick but passionate meeting of lips--chaste but at the same time scandalous, and with the head of the dullahan as the only witness. It was something Izaya had craved for years, but never dared to attempt. 

“Love is a woefully inadequate word, Shinra...” he breathed. “But I’ll still say it--I love you. You don’t have to know how to respond. I wouldn’t change anything, anyway.” 

“If you’re really going to be this stubborn... Izaya-kun...” Shinra replied softly, a faint smile curling his lips, “then there’s really nothing for it. 

“We’ll just have to see where it goes.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please do let me know what you guys think of this one! I had a lot of fun writing it, even if it did tear me to pieces. I'll see you guys very soon in the next chapter and, as always, thanks for reading! =^^=


	4. Rebound

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> SHIZELTY IS SO HEALTHY /flops 
> 
> (Thank you guys so much for your support thus far! Hope you enjoy the new chapter~)

Shizuo was attractive. Celty Sturlson had always known that objectively, but it had never been an overtly important fact to her personally. When she had begun to take note of the “masculinity” that Shinra Kishitani possessed, it had crossed her mind that someone might notice the same things in Shizuo… but she herself had only had eyes for her underground doctor.

Living with Shizuo Heiwajima lent her a slightly different perspective on the matter.

The blonde was far more primally attractive than her Shinra–a relic of the days when the strongest male had earned the right to pass on his genetic code through displays of strength and superior adaptations. Besides that, he was ruggedly handsome–chiseled jawline and soft, golden hair; lean, muscular body; a nice smile and deep, kind eyes.

Beyond that, he was such a wonderful friend–good-hearted, brave, loyal, intelligent, peace–

“I’m home!”

Celty jumped, the sound of the television crashing back into her consciousness along with the sound of the front door closing. She sat up on the couch, having relaxed into it as her thoughts roamed wherever they would, and scrambled for her pen and paper as Shizuo trudged into the living room.

“What a day…” he groaned, flopping down onto the cushion beside her. He smelled like cigarettes and the streets of Ikebukuro, an abrasive but not unpleasant scent. Celty offered him the remote, but he shook his head. “Nah, keep it. I’m not really gonna watch it, so just put on whatever.”

Celty retracted her hand, then scribbled down, “Welcome home.” 

Shizuo graced her with one of his smiles–a smile so warm that it made her insides heat up. “Good to be back. It’s nice to come home to someone, rather than an empty apartment, you know?”

“I’m glad,” Celty wrote, wondering if he could tell that her hand was shaking.

_Am I just… imagining things…?_ she wondered, then put a conscious effort into calming her emotions. If she let herself get too worked up, the shadows leaking from her neck might give her away like a human blush. If it was Shinra she was dealing with, he might still be able to ferret out her anxiety, but Shizuo–

The blonde tilted his head. “Is something up?”

Celty’s shadows billowed despite her efforts, jumping as Shizuo exceeded her expectations by a leap and a bound. He was good at reading her, she knew, but perhaps better than she had counted on.

“N-Nothing…” she wrote, then fidgeted before adding, “My thoughts are just… running away from me.”

“Anything you want to talk about?” Shizuo asked, his eyes sharp and earnest. Celty waved her hands in a negative motion.

“Not really. Thank you, though.”

Shizuo watched her for a moment, then shrugged. “Alright. Just let me know.” He rose with a soft grunt, then stretched his back with a visible shiver and strolled off toward the kitchen. Celty followed him with her gaze, the trembling in her fingers growing worse.

_Is this… the same…_

_… as what I felt for Shinra…?_

She didn’t have the same history with Shizuo; he hadn’t even once proclaimed love for her, or done anything that might nudge her in that sort of direction. Yet there was a similarity in _her_ feelings for the two men that she couldn’t seem to shake off.

_But am I just…_

_… trying to fill the gap left by Shinra…?_

Shizuo had been very kind–again–in letting his guest use his beat-up old laptop. The connection speed was considerably slower than she was used to, but Shizuo wasn’t really an internet person so it was understandable. Although skeptical that Shizuo knew how to–or would–check her browser history, Celty had gone into a private internet window and searched, “romantic feelings for best friend after end of relationship.”

REBOUND

That was the word that was repeated on countless message boards and blogs: rebound. It seemed a horribly vulnerable, emotional reaction. She was fairly certain she was experiencing something like this “rebound” phenomenon, and that unsettled her tremendously.

There was one big discrepancy, though, between her feelings and those described by the web: the internet warned that rebounds were often with arbitrarily-chosen people for poorly-thought-out reasons, or for no reason at all.

There were many reasons– _objective_ reasons, Celty was sure–to fall in love with Shizuo Heiwajima.

The reasons Shizuo Heiwajima should fall in love with her, however, were considerably fewer. _Is…_ anyone _capable of falling in love with me…?_ the dullahan wondered idly. _Or was Shinra… a bizarre exception of a human being…? A truly strange pervert to be attracted to someone… some_ thing _… like me…?_

The thought of being alone didn’t scare Celty, but if she was honest she would _prefer_ to love and be loved by someone she could share her Ikebukurean existence with. Her relationship with Shinra had been perfect, in that regard.

“Hey, Celty?” Shizuo’s voice made the dullahan jump. “Come here for just a sec, would you?”

Celty rose immediately, TV left on thoughtlessly in her wake. When she rounded the corner into the kitchen, she was surprised to find her blonde host leaning forward over the counter, glowering at the cutting board.

“Have you heard anything from either of them?”

“?” Celty held up the scribbled mark, but Shizuo didn’t need to look up at it to understand her question.

“Izaya’s been missing… and I haven’t seen Shinra around, either. I asked Simon about it today, but…

"He hasn’t seen either of them, either.”

Shizuo sounded earnestly troubled, so Celty answered honestly. “No, I haven’t. I have ways of getting in touch with Izaya, for work, but he's only tried to contact me once--about three days after the... incident. He asked if I'd been... home recently." Now that she was reminded of the brief conversation, it had been a very strange occurrence. "I hung up on him, and he hasn't tried again.” Her lack of communication with Shinra, she thought, spoke for itself.

Shizuo sighed. “Yeah… that’s what I thought. It just makes my skin crawl when that Flea stays quiet for too long… he’s usually got something nasty in the works… shit…”

Celty fidgeted, then wrote, “I can try to contact him, if you want?”

“Nah… no use asking for trouble…” Shizuo muttered, then straightened and fished a pan out of the cupboard above his head. “I was just wondering.”

Shizuo was a lot sharper than anyone gave him credit for, Celty thought. He _wasn’t_ only thinking about Izaya–his mention of Shinra at the beginning of the conversation had given him away.

“Are you worried about Shinra? Do you think Izaya might have done something to him?”

“Shinra can take care of himself,” Shizuo grunted, moving over to the refrigerator. But he didn’t answer her question. “You should know that.”

Celty’s hands worked slightly at her piece of paper. _But Shinra’s been… compromised…_ she wanted to object, although she didn’t allow herself to write it. As it was, she sat down slowly against the pantry door, unwilling to return to the solitude of the living room.

Shizuo didn’t try to make small-talk, and soon the scents of cooking things filled the kitchen. That prompted Celty, in an attempt to escape melancholy thoughts, to pose a question that she’d had for days.

“How did you learn to cook?” It wasn’t a skill she had ever thought her friend possessed.

Shizuo shrugged. “I don’t have the money to eat out all the time. Ramen’s good, I guess, but it gets real old real fast. So I just sort of… picked it up. It’s not like I know a bunch of fancy recipes or anything.”

“That’s… amazing.” For someone who had attempted and failed to cook–for Shinra, she acknowledged with a pang–many times, it was awe-inspiring.

“Not really,” Shizuo muttered. “Pretty useless, I mean. It’d be nice if I could offer you some food, but it doesn’t do much good there, either. Pretty damn useless skill if there’s no one around to eat with.”

That muttered train of thought surprised Celty, and she had to admit that it would be incredibly nice to share a meal with Shizuo. But that only drew her own shortcomings as something inhuman back to the forefront of her mind.

“Sorry…”

“Don’t apologize, you idiot!” Shizuo snapped, then muttered something crossly at the stove.

Even knowing that it might not be the best moment, Celty couldn’t help but hold up, “Can I ask you a question, Shizuo?”

“As long as it isn’t anything stupid…” the blonde grumbled, and Celty wondered if what she wanted to ask qualified. But Shizuo had never truly lost it with her–snapped and sniped, yes; grumbled fairly frequently; lost control in her presence several times. But his temper had never actually been unleashed _toward_ her, and that lent her confidence.

“Do you think that anyone else is capable of loving something inhuman like me? Shinra did, and I’m… I wonder if I’ll ever come across someone else who–”

“Idiot!” Shizuo snarled, before she could even finish writing. Her pencil skittered a wild line across the paper as the page was snatched from her hand, and she watched in astonishment as Shizuo ripped it to tiny pieces before tossing them carelessly onto the stove. Then the blonde’s forefinger was jabbing toward where her face would have been as he leaned in close, his eyes flashing like the tongues of flame exploding into life on his stove.

“What the hell kind of a question is that?” Shizuo demanded. “It should be fucking obvious, you idiot! Anyone in their right mind would be lucky to have you! Shinra’s nothing _that_ special, that only _he_ can love someone as incredible as you! If anything, you’re the only one that twisted bastard had a chance in hell of getting to love him back, so he’s the one who’s really lost out!”

A nervous laugh vibrated through Celty’s chest, but Shizuo wasn’t finished.

“You listen here,” he growled, getting so close that Celty felt a flare of panic. “You’re gorgeous, inside and out. You’re so fucking desirable it’s almost not fair, so don’t you dare think otherwise. Shinra messed up, _bad_ , when he lost you. It’s his loss, not yours–you’ll find someone a thousand times better in no time at all, you got that?”

Celty forced herself to nod as best as one can without a head, and Shizuo let out a satisfied little huff before drawing fully back. As the dullahan straightened herself against the cabinet one more, she wondered what she might say if Shizuo hadn’t ripped up her only method of communication.

_I might confess, right now…_

_“Someone a thousand times better?” Could that be you, Shizuo?_

When she thought about possibly saying _that_ , she was quite _glad_ that her blonde host had torn up her paper.

… … …

**–SETTON HAS ENTERED THE CHAT–**

**【Oh, hello, Setton! It’s been a while!】**   
**【Are you well?】**   
**[Well enough. Thanks for the concern.]**   
**【Of course! It’s been almost a week since you were on! We were worried…】**   
**[I’m quite alright. Thank you, though. I mean it.]**   
**[You said ‘we,’ right? Is Kanra around?]**   
**【I think she’s lurking rn… but I’m not sure.】**   
**【You know how she is… ^^;;】**   
**[I do.]**   
**[Anyway, how are things? Sorry I haven’t been on in so long…]**

Chatting with her online friend soothed Celty’s anxiety, and she was glad of him. Though she had hoped to speak to the seemingly all-knowing admin of their chat room sanctuary, she quickly decided that it was for the best that Kanra wasn’t around. The conversation moved smoothly between her and Tanaka Taro for nearly an hour, when at long last her friend typed a farewell.

**【Well, I should go. I have school tomorrow, haa…】**   
**[Get some sleep then, definitely!]**   
**[Thanks for staying on so long.]**   
**【Of course! I’m here any time you need to talk.】**   
**[Thanks.]**   
**[Sleep well.]**   
**【Good night!】**

**–TANAKA TARO HAD LEFT THE CHAT–**

Celty was one click away from being home-free; from exiting the chat room and being, for the moment, unreachable. But, at that exact second…

**< Private Mode> 《You wanted me, Setton dear?》 **   
**< Private Mode> [Oh! Hello, Kanra. So you were lurking, haha.] **   
**< Private Mode> 《Just not feeling entirely social tonight. But if you need me, Setton, I’m here for you.》 **   
**< Private Mode> [That really means a lot… thank you, Kanra.] **   
**< Private Mode> 《So what was it you needed, my dear?》 **   
**< Private Mode> [I was wondering if you knew of an information broker by the name of Izaya Orihara.]**

There was a beat.

**< Private Mode> [You seem to know all about Ikebukuro, you know. And even though he operates out of Shinjuku, he’s very active here in Ikebukuro, too. I was wondering if you had heard any rumors about him.] **   
**< Private Mode> 《I know of him.》 **   
**< Private Mode> 《But I’m afraid I don’t have much useful information about him. I’ve never had direct dealings with him, and I haven’t heard his name tossed around in a while. A week, at least.》 **   
**< Private Mode> [Oh…] **   
**< Private Mode> 《From what I have heard, he’s bad news. I’ve tried to steer clear of him as much as I can.》 **   
**< Private Mode> 《Your friend Kanra plays with some dangerous people, but he’s a bit out of my depth. I’d recommend avoiding him–at all costs.》 **   
**< Private Mode> [Aah… thank you, Kanra. I’ll keep that in mind.] **   
**< Private Mode> 《Is there anything else? If I can help you out in any way, Setton, you know I will.》 **   
**< Private Mode> 《I know Taro already asked, but are you really alright?》 **   
**< Private Mode> [Yes…] **   
**< Private Mode> [I recently… lost where I was living… But I’m staying with a trusted friend. I’m okay.] **   
**< Private Mode> [Thank you, Kanra.] **   
**< Private Mode> 《I’m so sorry!! If there’s ANYTHING you need, please let me know!》 **   
**< Private Mode> 《And remember: steer very, very clear of this Izaya Orihara character. He’ll only make a bad situation worse for you.》 **   
**< Private Mode> [Kanra…] **   
**< Private Mode> [If you don’t mind me asking… you said you haven’t had personal dealings with Orihara… but you speak very knowledgeably of him. What IS your connection to him?] **   
**< Private Mode> [Y-You don’t have to answer, of course. I might be overstepping my bounds.] **   
**< Private Mode> 《I don’t mind.》 **   
**< Private Mode> 《It’s true that I don’t know him personally, but… I’ve seen first hand what he does to people’s lives.》 **   
**< Private Mode> 《And I’ve heard… from a trustworthy source…》 **   
**< Private Mode> 《… that he’s even got his sights set on the Black Rider next. Can you imagine?》**

… … …

Celty lay awake on the futon that had become hers long after the apartment was dark, Shizuo presumably fast asleep in his room. He only had the one bedroom and, although he had offered it to her, she had insisted that she was fine setting up camp on the living room floor. Usually she slept soundly enough there, although that night her dear friend Kanra’s words wouldn’t let her rest. She couldn’t help but wonder why Izaya Orihara had seemingly disappeared… and just about a week ago.The timing was simply too–

“Celty?”

The dullahan jumped violently at his voice, scrabbling against restrictive blankets as she bolted upright. In the dim light, she could barely make out Shizuo standing in the doorway of his bedroom.

“I heard you–tossing and turning,” he explained flatly. “Is everything okay?”

Needing some way to reassure him, Celty twisted to grope for a notepad on the coffee table. But just as she found one, a large hand closed over hers, startling her.

“Hey.” Shizuo sounded mildly put-out. “I can tell you’re not okay, you know? Anything you’d try to write on a dumb sheet of paper would be a lie, and you know it.”

Celty’s shoulders sagged with defeat, but she let herself be drawn up and bundled into a strong embrace. She wrapped her arms around Shizuo’s broad shoulders, letting herself be comforted like a child.

“Have you thought about what you’re going to do?” Shizuo murmured, after a moment. “You can stay here forever as far as I’m concerned, but losing your… I dunno, your direction must be… tough. I mean, when you thought about your future, you must have seen Shinra in it, right?”

_It was either Shinra or my head… those were my two options…_ Celty thought with a sigh, and Shizuo’s chest rumbled beneath her.

“Either that or looking for your head, right? It must… damn, it must be hard.” His grip tightened on her. “I’m here for you, Celty… whatever you need, just tell me.”

_Having your arms around me is more than enough…_ Celty thought, before she could stop herself. Her grip tightened fractionally around Shizuo, and he responded ten-fold.

“And if you just need me to hold you, then damn it… I’ll hold you forever. Got it?” 


	5. Care

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *coughs* They're trying...
> 
> Okay so this has taken way, way too long to update and I'm so sorry. orz School and an original fiction project I'm working on are sucking most of the life out of me atm, but I _promise_ I haven't forgotten about this fic, and have no plans of abandoning it! I have a couple chapters up on my writing blog, so I think there'll be a couple quick updates here to make up for the horrible wait this time 'round. 
> 
> Regardless, thank you so much for your support, and I hope you enjoy the new chapter!

Shiki had no way of knowing, of course, what a volatile situation he was walking into. All he knew, at the time, was that both Shinra Kishitani and Izaya Orihara seemed to be ignoring his calls. He could still get through to the information broker by email, but he’d also heard, via the old rumor mill, that neither boy had been seen in person for nearly a week. It wasn’t unusual for Izaya to drop off the radar, but when he did it was usually entirely–not this partially-maintained email-only contact. Sightings of the Black Rider had also drastically and mysteriously dropped, and Shiki had been unable to get in touch with her for business purposes. Shinra, finally, had _never_ been known to vanish in such a way–his chosen profession didn’t allow him that luxury. 

That led him, naturally, to investigate. There were times when spare keys came very in handy, and he didn’t think twice about using _his_ spare to the Kishitani residence.

The apartment was dark–almost pitch black, save for the light coming through the door past him. Shiki didn’t often flinch and there was nothing about this situation that made it an exception, but his mind was immediately churning through worst-case scenarios. The air of the apartment smelled stale.

Shiki closed the door with a soft _click_ , plunging himself into darkness. He wondered idly if he should call out to the young underground doctor.

There was the scuff of feet; Shiki pivoted, moving instinctually even as his eyes tried to adjust to the dark. He made out a shape; reached out, feeling his hand grasp a bony wrist. He felt the person twist, and then a familiar, cold blade pressed against his throat.

“Orihara?”  


Shiki felt, through his grip on the younger man’s wrist, his assailant jump. Then the blade flicked away from his throat; there was a cross, “Tch. Shiki-san. It’s you.”

“It’s me,” the Awakusu executive confirmed mildly, releasing Izaya’s wrist. There was a soft shuffling of feet as the informant put a bit if distance between them. “What’s–”

“Get out.”

Shiki blinked in surprise; his eyes were beginning to adjust more, and he could see the outline of his companion. He could also see, from the barest glint of metal, that Izaya _hadn’t_ put his switchblade away; it hung, limp, at his side.

“No. I came here to see Kishitani-kun. He isn’t answering his phone, you know.”

“He’s still asleep,” Izaya answered flatly, his voice low. “I’ll tell him you came by.”

“You and I both know you won’t.” Shiki wasn’t yet sure what was going on, but he was willing to bet on that, at least.

“You won’t disturb him,” Izaya replied, his voice unyielding. It was so different from the honeyed tone he usually struck that he sounded like an entirely different person. “I won’t let _anything_ disturb him.”

“Is Kishitani-kun in good health?” Shiki queried; his vision was getting better by the heartbeat, and he could now tell that Izaya was clad in a thin robe and house slippers–something he hadn’t expected.

“Good enough. You certainly don’t need to worry about him.”

Shiki didn’t trust that; he was also struggling to piece together exactly _why_ Izaya Orihara was in the apartment, in what was arguably a partial state of undress, and acting like an over-zealous guard-dog on top of it. Even if he assumed he had blundered into something scandalous–and it wouldn’t have been the first time, with Shinra Kishitani–several things weren’t adding up. Izaya was acting far too aggressively; Shinra’s absence was too conspicuous; the headless rider’s involvement was a huge question mark; the dark, stale state of the apartment was simply too strange.

And then the new, groggy voice:

“Izaya-kun…?”

Instantly Izaya was moving, Shiki seemingly forgotten in the doorway. “Shinra. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to wake you.”

The doctor made a soft, almost soothing noise, then flicked on the light. Shiki narrowed his eyes, then blinked rapidly to clear his vision. There was Izaya, standing straight and protective at Shinra’s shoulder–his switchblade, however, had vanished. Shiki spared a moment to wonder where he was hiding it, considering the near-translucent fabric of the robe he wore. Shinra looked to be in one piece, clad in flannel nightclothes; his gaze was sleepy but alert, and the expression he wore was an earnestly curious smile. But what he held, clutched to his chest in frail arms…

“Shiki-san,” he greeted the visitor cheerfully, stepping past Izaya. “Hello. What brings you to visit? Has Izaya-kun offered you tea yet?”

The informant’s expression twisted into one of the utmost irritation. But he didn’t argue. “I was on my way, Shinra.”

“Sorry I’ve been out of communication, Shiki-san,” Shinra continued, motioning for the visitor to follow him. “Oh, you must have been worried, right?”

“Mildly concerned,” Shiki replied, padding after the younger man. But he paused when Shinra flopped onto the couch, the dullahan’s head resting in his lap. “I’ll go assist Orihara-kun with the tea, then.”

“Oh, but you’re the guest!” Shinra objected. Shiki only turned away, raising an acknowledging hand over his shoulder.

The kitchen was in worse shape than the rest of the house. Dirty dishes were piled to the roof in one corner, and Izaya was cursing at the stove as he worked. When Shiki entered, he turned.

“Do you know how hard it is to get him to sleep peacefully?” was the first thing he asked, sorely; Shiki shrugged.

“Can’t say I do. But I can take a guess.”

Now that the lights were on, Shiki could tell that all was not well with Izaya Orihara. His eyes were narrow and haunted, with black circles beneath them as though he hadn’t slept in years. His hair was tangled–not dirty, but not well kept, and he was dressed only in that thin robe and standard house-slippers. His whole body was tense, knuckles white as he grasped the kettle.

“What’s going on here, Orihara? Really?”

“If you upset him in any way, I won’t forgive you.” It was a line straight out of a manga, and not the type of thing that would frighten someone like Shiki.

But, for perhaps the first time, the Awakusu executive found himself taking a threat from Izaya Orihara seriously.

“I get it,” he said, hands raised. “I’ll leave now, if that’s what you want.”

“No…” Izaya sighed, surprising him. “Shinra wants you to stay and visit. So stay and visit. But watch yourself,” he added. “And whatever you do, _do not_ mention that dullahan.”

Shiki blinked, but put his hand up. “On my honor.”

“Good,” Izaya muttered, then handed Shiki a tray of tea. “I’m going to go change.” Then, after a beat, “Come with me.”

“What?” Shiki asked, surprised.

“I’m not leaving you alone with him,” was Izaya’s clipped response. “And I’m _not_ suffering the _indignity_ of being dressed like this in front of company for a minute longer. So you’ll just have to come along with me. We’ll drop the tea off with Shinra, first.”

“What’s that about?” Shiki asked, jerking his chin to indicate the tower of dishes. Izaya didn’t look pleased at being questioned.

“I hate doing dishes, and god knows I can’t have anyone in the house, not with his attachment to that head. I’ve just been ordering new ones.”

Shiki choked on an unexpected laugh. “Why am I not surprised?”

“There’s a neighbor-kid who comes and takes out the trash for us,” Izaya continued idly, scuffing his way toward the living room, “and my new secretary brings pre-made meals. Anything else we need can be delivered.” He fell silent when they came within earshot of Shinra, still sitting where Shiki had left him. “I’m going to go change, Shinra,” he told the doctor, leaning over the back of the couch to rest one hand on his shoulder. “Shiki’s coming with me, but we’ll be back in just a minute.”

“Okay,” the doctor agreed easily. “Hurry back!”

“We will,” Izaya said soothingly, then indicated that Shiki should leave the tea. The Awakusu executive followed him patiently into the master bedroom.

“This has something to do with Celty Sturlson, doesn’t it?”

“Doesn’t everything?” Izaya grumbled, then ducked into the closet and closed the door down to a crack.

Shiki took the chance to peer around the bedroom. There were two pillows on the twin-sized bed–one blanket, but two pillows. When he craned his neck to peer into the bathroom, there were two sets of personal hygiene tools, one on either side of the single sink.

“Why didn’t you just move into Celty-san’s room?”

A barking laugh from the closet startled Shiki. “Firstly, because I don’t want to take her place!” Izaya replied. “Secondly, because I want nothing to do with her or her room or her bed or her belongings–I'd burn the lot, if I could. Thirdly, because I don’t trust Shinra alone for more than five minutes.” With that he emerged, hair still tousled but now dressed in jeans and a black shirt. “This is better. Now let’s get back, shall we?”

“Right…” Shiki murmured, then followed Izaya back into the living room. Shinra hadn’t moved, and waved cheerfully when they returned.

“Have you brought us news of the outside world, Shiki-san?” he asked eagerly, leaning forward when Shiki sat across from him; after a beat, Izaya sat beside the young doctor. “Izaya-kun hasn’t been letting me outside, you know. Not that I particularly want to go outside, you know.” He laughed sheepishly. “I understand why he doesn’t want me to go outside…”

Shiki glanced over at Izaya, who hadn’t reacted to the doctor’s words. He was sipping his tea in an almost meditative way, gazing disconnectedly into the steam.

“And you’re okay with that?” Shiki asked, as if to verify. Again Izaya didn’t react, but Shinra nodded jerkily.

“Oh yes! Izaya-kun is only looking out for me; I know that. It’s just exciting to get word from the outside all of a sudden! Tell me, Shiki–how’s my Celty doing?”

Izaya went rigid, fingers tightening around his teacup. Shiki wondered if his ban on the subject extended to these sorts of circumstances–when Shinra himself had broached the topic.

“… I don’t know,” the Awakusu executive said at last, truthfully. “She’s been as unreachable as you. Pity, too–I have a few tasks I could use her for.”

Shinra sighed, disappointed but not cripplingly so. “Pity…” he echoed, then chewed briefly on his lip. “I wonder where she’s staying… I hope she’s found another place… perhaps with Ryugamine-kun…? He’s a good kid…”

Shiki’s gaze flicked to Izaya; it was one piece of information he _did_ have. He was fairly certain that the informant knew it, too, with how closely he watched that particular man… the blonde demon who Shiki, too, deliberately kept an eye on.  


Sorrel eyes flicked over to him; met his questioning gaze with a severity that nearly had Shiki reaching for the small gun concealed at his side. He hadn’t wandered into such an uncertain situation unarmed, though he hoped that physical conflict could be avoided.

“Sorry,” he said nonchalantly, forcing himself to look away from Izaya’s challenge. “I don’t know that, either.”

Shinra sighed again. “It’s alright… I mean, I’m fairly sure that Izaya-kun knows, anyway,” he said, with a chuckle that startled Shiki. Again Izaya didn’t visibly react, only returned to his tea. “I could press him for the information, if I really _really_ wanted to find out.”

“But you… don’t?” Shiki asked, bewildered. Shinra hummed thoughtfully, letting his head drop back so that he was gazing up at the ceiling.

“If Izaya-kun doesn’t want to tell me, then I’ll play like I don’t want to know. The barest courtesy I owe him is to avoid actively causing him pain.”

Again Shiki looked over at Izaya, who was once again seemed wholly apathetic to the conversation. He looked tired, Shiki reflected, and the Awakusu executive could only fumble for another topic as Shinra lapsed into an idle humming.

The obvious subject, held loosely on Shinra’s lap, was most definitely taboo.

… … …

“Don’t come here again, at least not unannounced,” was Izaya’s farewell at the door. Shiki nodded.

“Not unannounced,” he agreed, and Izaya’s eyes narrowed.

“Don’t bother calling here, either–I’ve had all three of Shinra’s numbers disconnected. Email me if you need to get in touch for whatever reason.”

Again Shiki nodded. “I will. By that same token, reach out to me if you need anything. The Kishitanis have always been friends to the Awakusu, more so than you.”

Then it was Izaya’s turn to nod. “Got it, though I doubt I’ll take you up on it, beyond our usual business.”

Shiki shrugged, then bowed briefly. “Take care–of yourself _and_ of him.”

“I will,” Izaya replied, and then was altogether too pleased to close the door.

“Shiki-san is a good family friend,” came Shinra’s gentle voice from behind him. “There’s no need to act so hostile.”

“I wasn’t acting hostile,” was Izaya’s clipped response. “If I’d been acting hostile, dear Haruya would have left here with a knife in his innards.”

Shinra chuckled faintly, them wrapped one arm around Izaya’s shoulders from behind. The information broker bent his head, knowing instinctively that the other arm still held the dullahan’s head.

“Thank you for looking out for me so diligently, Izaya-kun.”

Izaya’s shoulders trembled, just briefly; Shinra must have felt it, but didn’t acknowledge it. And when the informant spoke, his voice was cheerful.

“… Right! Let’s go have some supper, then. What do you feel like eating?”

“Whatever you’ve got for me will be fine, Izaya-kun.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you again for reading, and please leave a comment or kudos if you're so inclined! They really do sustain me on many days. :'3

**Author's Note:**

> Please do leave kudos or comments if you're so inclined! I hope to see you all soon in the next chapter!


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